


mollia

by epoenine



Series: multa basiorum [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Canon Compliant, Elizabethan, Established Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epoenine/pseuds/epoenine
Summary: The sun had just started to break out into the sky above Verona, tinging the clouds shades of pinks and oranges like none other. From where they were resting, just outside of the small and charming town, the sunrise could be seen peeking through the trees, its absence casting shadows along the soft grass.





	

The sun had just started to break out into the sky above Verona, tinging the clouds shades of pinks and oranges like none other. From where they were resting, just outside of the small and charming town, the sunrise could be seen peeking through the trees, its absence casting shadows along the soft grass. 

The two of them must have fallen asleep here, Benvolio thought, and was proven correct when he turned to see the sleeping innocence on Mercutio’s face. 

Last night, when dusk had swept over the town, Mercutio had tugged Benvolio by the hand and lured him off the path, into the darker woods. Mercutio had smuggled a bottle of wine out of the Montague’s kitchens, charming the cooks into distraction. He’d talked sweetly to them, bringing color into their cheeks, before using his mischief to wrap his long fingers around the bottle’s delicate neck, hiding it away in the creases of his robe.

Benvolio, of course, once his hand was held by Mercutio’s own, had gone easily into the bosk, grateful for the protection the trees would give them.

They had sipped on the sweet, honeyed wine, and talked, and laughed, and looked up into the stars. As much as they loved Romeo, would fight by his side until their deaths, the break from his dramatic presence was a treat. They did not often get time away from him. They didn’t often get time away from anyone, really, which made the night so much more bittersweet. They could talk freely and lean on each other’s sides and tangle their fingers and press their lips together, but when dawn came, they had to go back to whispering in the corridors and sneaking into each other’s rooms when all but the servants were asleep.

Now, dawn had arrived. Her beauty did nothing to mask the truth of inevitable secrecy. 

Benvolio’s eyes did not stray far from Mercutio’s resting face. His eyelids, laid like soft petals in their transparency. Eyelashes fanning out against his cheekbones. There was the straight slope of his nose, the rose of his cheeks, the point of his chin. There was his mouth, as well, lips plush in their fullness, and Benvolio wanted nothing more than to press his own against them and share a kiss.

The breath in Mercutio’s lungs caught as he happened upon consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and when he caught sight of Benvolio, the corners of his mouth pulled into a grin. 

“How long didst thou wait for me to awake?” asked Mercutio, the question leaving his lips as a murmur. Mercutio turned to his side so he could face Benvolio directly, so he could study the perfect curve of Benvolio’s nose and mouth.

Benvolio, with a small, pleasant smile resting on his lips, had responded, “Nought more than a moment.” As Mercutio started to sit up, Benvolio reached out with a hand, gently guiding him back down. “Nay, let us not leave yet.” Benvolio looked away, into the distant rising sun.

“If that is what thou wishes,” Mercutio replied, blinking slowly at Benvolio, still feeling pleased. Their faces were close enough that Benvolio could see each individual eyelash Mercutio had, the top lashes mingling with the bottom lashes as they meet each other briefly. “Wouldst thou give thyself to me? If only for right now.”

Benvolio propped himself up and the expression he wore became serious. “Always,” he began, swaying toward Mercutio the slightest fraction of a bit. His eyes softened as he continued, “I would stay with thee until the sun sank below the horizon, and the next morning, when it rose above, and all the days after.”

Leaning downward, Benvolio fit his lips to those of Mercutio, feeling overcome with emotion. Emotion that was, overwhelmingly so, like the constant rush of waves being pulled to the shore. Building, cresting, crashing. That is what it was like for him. 

When Romeo spoke of his infatuations, he talked of restlessness, feeling jittery and anxious, being unable to sleep.

This worried Benvolio, because he felt quite differently. It may be that Mercutio was not a lady he was courting, but a friend, no, the other half of his soul, and kinsman to the prince, at that. However, unlike how Romeo felt, for Benvolio, the feelings crept up on him and made their home in his chest. Most often, they resembled the storms that hit Verona, seemingly innocent, only proceeding to disprove that assumption, wiping out their fields of crops in one night. 

Benvolio felt in that moment, that he was being made into something wrecked, just by Mercutio’s kiss. Mercutio’s hands, too, which wandered to the hinge of his jaw, cradling the fragility of his skull, fingers sifting through the soft hair that rested at the base of his neck.

Mercutio bit at Benvolio’s lips with his sharp teeth, soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue. With that, he moved his hands to hold on to the cage of Benvolio’s ribs, guiding him to climb onto his lap. Benvolio’s back was hunched over, his arms bent to prop himself up, and the two of them still connected at the lips. Mercutio’s hands slipped lower, meeting the plane of Benvolio’s stomach, and lower, even, to touch his thumbs to the jut of Benvolio’s hipbone. 

Benvolio broke away from the kiss to pant, drawing in each breath as if he’d been drowning. Mercutio’s thumbs still circled around the delicate point of his hipbones. “My lord?” Benvolio asked, his voice less than a whisper, and then he smiled, bright and beautiful, because Mercutio’s eyes had fluttered closed as he let out a soft sound that was a little more than a sigh. “Would thou givest—”

“Anything, Benvolio, I will give thee whatever it is thou wants,” Mercutio replied, in between the kisses he placed on Benvolio’s neck. Benvolio rested more of his weight onto Mercutio, each of his thighs parted across Mercutio’s hips, pressing against the hardness of Mercutio’s length.

“This,” Benvolio said after their lips met once again, melting into a deeper kiss that was miles away from being chaste. In between breaths, he told Mercutio, “Give me this.” Benvolio rolled his hips down, drawing another sound out of Mercutio, this one from deeper within his chest. 

Mercutio, as he pulled in a gasp, said, “Yes,  _ yes _ , Benvolio,” and rucked up the tunic Benvolio was wearing so that Mercutio could see his abdominal muscles tremble each time their hips met. The fabric of his leggings, now visible from Mercutio’s attempt to rid Benvolio of his tunic, did not do much to hide how Benvolio’s prick had gone stiff. In the confines of his pants, it slid against Mercutio’s own every time Benvolio reached the point in his rhythm of kissing and moving his hands over his shoulders that he rocked down. “Off, take this off of thee,” Mercutio told him, tugging at the soft fabric of Benvolio’s tunic. 

“Pray, thou must, as well, then,” Benvolio stated as he moved back to lift the shirt over his head. Mercutio sat up and threw his own off, unbothered by little things such as that when he had Benvolio’s bare chest in front of him. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to the smooth skin on Benvolio’s collarbone, gentle, and then put the thin skin between his teeth. Benvolio let out a hiss, and when Mercutio drew back, he could see the faint indentations of his teeth on Benvolio’s olive skin. The redness faded away quickly, the sting, however, did not. 

Benvolio leaned his head back, exposed his neck so that Mercutio had more room to work. Mercutio parted his lips and pressed open mouthed kisses right where he could feel Benvolio’s pulse. He could feel it gain speed, Benvolio’s heart starting to beat a little faster as Mercutio sucked a mark into the side of his neck. 

“Thou never bruises easily,” Mercutio muttered, sinking his teeth into the tendon pulled taught on Benvolio’s shoulder. “If I can’t mark thee, how will all of Verona know that thou art mine?” Mercutio was teasing, a lilt to his voice much like the one that is always there, a smirk gracing his features, but underneath his tone was affection, and instead of mischief in his eyes, it was adoration.

Benvolio, ignoring the swoop in his stomach that always came with Mercutio speaking truth about their feelings for one another, decided to play along, smiling down at him while Mercutio leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll have thee know, my lord,” Benvolio stated, drawing back so that Mercutio would be chasing after him, “that it is  _ thou _ who belongs to  _ me _ .”

Instead of a witty reply, Mercutio only closed his eyes and waited to be kissed, sighing as their lips touched and gave way. Benvolio used his hand to press on the front of Mercutio’s trousers, rubbing along the length of him, and was very pleased when Mercutio, struck speechless, elicited a whimper. It was a needy sound, and along with it came the buck of Mercutio’s hips, pushing his cock up into the palm of Benvolio’s hand. 

Mercutio fell back, rested his head against the ground, and settled his hands on the jut of Benvolio’s hipbones. In turn, Benvolio, balanced by a steady hand placed on Mercutio’s chest, tugged at the strings that held the front of Mercutio’s pants closed with his free hand, letting them fall open so that he could wrap his fingers around Mercutio’s cock. Within the grasp of Benvolio’s hand, it was thick in its girth, curving just slightly to the right. 

A slickness coated his palm that made each stroke better than the last. Mercutio’s hips moved with the pulls of Benvolio’s hand, stuttering each time Benvolio’s wrist twisted the tiniest bit as he neared the crown of Mercutio’s cock.

“Beautiful, my lord,” Benvolio told him, because that was what he was thinking. “Someone must carve thee from stone. Ivory, I think, and it will be as smooth and as pale as thee. They will make thee into a statue, and all of Verona will be able to see how gorgeous my lord is, for a hundred years onward.” Mercutio tilted his head up just so, a silent request for a kiss. It isn’t that Mercutio could not have asked for one, but Benvolio knew him all too well, and as soon as his head shifted just a fraction of an inch up, Benvolio was already leaning down to him, meeting his lips.

“Benvolio, pray,” Mercutio started to say, but Benvolio was one step ahead of him, and his grip on Mercutio’s cock grew tighter, his pace, faster. Mercutio’s hips attempted to lift with each stroke, and he fisted one of his hands in Benvolio’s short curls, using the nails of his free hand to scratch red lines across Benvolio’s ribcage.

A litany of curses and prayers fell from Mercutio’s mouth. He swore, a sharp sound that found its power as soon as Mercutio touched the tip of his tongue to the backs of his teeth. He sighed, spoke of God, compared Benvolio to the light of an angel. As the tone and pitch of Mercutio’s cries became higher, more strained, Benvolio’s hand went faster. Mercutio spilled over Benvolio’s fingers, his wrist, choking out a moan, sounding overwhelmed and raw. As the moan trailed off, a sigh replaced it, and soon he became content and at ease, pleased with himself and Benvolio.

Benvolio sat up, Mercutio following him, needing his lips to say pressed to Benvolio’s. The kisses they traded were lazy, now, Mercutio unable to hold back the smile gracing his face. This, however, bared his teeth, and he couldn’t help but nip at Benvolio’s reddened lips. Although Benvolio had not finished, was still aching for Mercutio’s touch, he was content with kissing him until their mouths were sore.

Mercutio’s hands settled on Benvolio’s hips, his thumbs smoothing over the bump of his hipbone gently. Benvolio pulled back from the kiss momentarily, shifted so that he could perch on the thick muscle of Mercutio’s thigh, giving him something to press against. He couldn’t help but roll his hips downward, the promise of friction too great to ignore.

Their lips had once again met, and in time with the roll of his hips, Benvolio let out sweet sighs into Mercutio’s mouth. Mercutio let him grind against his thigh, wanting to see Benvolio come, see him wrecked, see him walk back to his room with a flush high on his cheeks, one that Mercutio had put there. 

Benvolio moved against Mercutio’s thigh, quicker, now that his desire was building, and he drew away from the kiss, trying to catch his breath. He eyes were closed, too overwhelmed to take in the sight of Mercutio underneath him. 

The light drag of Benvolio’s thigh against his spent cock made Mercutio jolt, letting out a sharp sound at the base of Benvolio’s throat. 

Benvolio opened his eyes, saw Mercutio’s furrowed brows, his panting mouth. With the last of his breath, Benvolio sighed, “Oh,” his hips stuttering to a halt as he came. He panted, unable to find the air to take a breath, and met Mercutio’s waiting mouth for a kiss.

There were a few moments of silence, exchanging lazy kisses between them. Absently, Benvolio noticed that a breeze was gently ruffling his hair, cooling his feverish skin. Pulling back from their kiss, Benvolio accepted the tunic that Mercutio handed to him, and used it to clean the mess off of his hand. 

“Must we leave so soon?” Benvolio asked, his voice quiet and full of longing, taking longer than usual to meet Mercutio’s eyes. “I wish to stay here forever.”

Mercutio held onto his gaze while he answered, “If that is what thou wishes.” 

Just then, the breeze seemed to die out, the leaves high in the trees stopped rustling, and the distant chirps of a bird quieted. It was like time had come to a halt, granting them this, allowing them to stay suspended in that moment.

Perhaps time really had stopped in those woods—Benvolio couldn’t remember if the clouds ever did move from their place in the sunlit sky.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! i'm @ganymedie on tumblr and twitter


End file.
